


The only thing that matters

by saturnina



Series: Mythopoetic Marvel [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bromance, Gen, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki (Marvel)'s Lips Sewn Shut, M/M, Marvel Norse Lore, Non-Marvel Hel | Hela, Norse Myths & Legends, Not Thor: Ragnarok (2017) Compliant, Not Thor: The Dark World Compliant, Odin's Parenting, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Sibling Incest, Sibling Love, Thor Feels, Thor Is Not Stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-22
Updated: 2012-05-22
Packaged: 2017-11-22 15:19:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/611260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saturnina/pseuds/saturnina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After escaping the Asgardian prison, Loki finds a way to carry out his vendetta. Everything goes as expected—except for Thor's reaction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The only thing that matters

**Author's Note:**

> This fanfic is a shameless, indulgent mix of the Marvel universe with Nordic Mythology. I did try to stay in character though... by the way, this fanfic completely ignores the existence of "Thor: Ragnarok (2017)". The Hel/Hela here is *not* the Cate Blanchett version; she's closer to the mythological one. 
> 
> UPDATE (Nov 2017): Corrected some remaining typos and re-wrote bits I wasn't happy about. I hope it's better now. Enjoy! :o)

"They have sewn your lips shut. How _appropriate_."

It was an impersonal statement, uttered in the same tone one would use to discuss the weather. There was no concern in that strangely familiar voice, not even a smidgen of it, but it made Loki open his eyes to look for its source. She was standing above him, and her dark eyes were daunting hooks for the spirit.

"Do not worry, my father. I will cut the thread."

Hel. He watched as she knelt beside him with an old but well-honed knife in her hand. Half of her naked body was that of a fair maiden, and half of it was that of a hag. Half pale, flawless skin like his own. Half grey, wrinkled skin of a corpse. He could see some resemblance in her, something about her thin face and dark hair was unmistakably _his_. But her eyes were not green; they were black, black as the abyss below the Bifröst, from which he had fallen for a second time.

Only this time it seemed he had died.

"You are not dead. _Yet_."

Hel's voice was a strange mix of young and old, honeyed but slightly hoarse. Loki felt some pain as his child carefully cut the thread that sealed his lips. That had been his punishment after wreaking havoc in Midgard. He kept his eyes fixed ahead, and through the holes of a ruined dome he saw the sky. Always covered in grey mist. Everything in Niflhel was frozen and decaying, and Eljudnir was a mockery of Valhalla's glory.

With a final tug, Hel finished her work. Loki opened his mouth slowly, but there was so much blood on his lips he did not feel like speaking. His silvertongue was stilled by the realisation that this time he had indeed fallen into the world of the dead. Had magic finally charged its full price in blood?

"How insufferably stubborn. You are _not_ dead," Hel seemed to hear his thoughts, "you are here because you are very close to dying... but I don't think you will. Hate shall keep you alive. You may stay here until you recover."

And Loki closed his eyes once more.

~*~

He opened his eyes again when a foreign sound reached his ears.

Loki's head turned slowly, looking for its source. Sitting on the stones of a ruined wall, he could see Hel playing a golden harp, an unbecoming object in such a desolate realm. The harp had been Loki's gift to his child, before she was sent away.

The Allfather always thought Loki's children were monstrosities, but Hel was one of the least frightening of them all. Like with Sleipnir, instead of locking her away somewhere, he decided to render her useful. Odin sent her to Niflhel to look after the unworthy dead, welcome them, share her food with them, sing to their souls until the Ragnarök.

And sing she did. She sung to keep them asleep so they would not disturb the living. She sung about green grasses and blue skies, stormy oceans filled with marvellous creatures. Colourful birds in places where it always rained. Things she had never seen for real.

"The dead sleep, waiting for the end. The wicked dream of their deserving punishment, and their torture never lets them rest. The dishonoured are frozen, and they dream of their lost lives over and over again, without ever being able to enjoy it. Sometimes I catch glimpses of their dreams, of what they have seen, and I sing about these visions."

So that is how she could see his thoughts, Loki wondered. He was an almost-dead, and right now his mind could not protect itself from her scrutiny. Though he was a God himself, in her realm Hel was sovereign.

"As a God, you cannot truly die until you play your part in the Ragnarök, as seen by the Norns. But you can still exhaust yourself, and fall into a sleep that resembles death. You have consumed yourself in your flight from the Asgardian prison, so if you still wish to wage your vendetta, you must recover."

So she also knew about his desire for revenge. How much else had she seen? He felt slightly disturbed, as he always felt around Heimdall until he learnt how to conceal his presence from the Gatekeeper's all-seeing eyes. But now Loki couldn't muster the power needed to shield his mind. He heard Hel chuckle at his ideas, as she brought her music to a halt.

"Oh, father. Do not waste your precious energy on such futile thoughts. Do you actually believe I will climb up the Yggdrasil and blather to Odin about your dirty secrets as soon as you close your eyes?" 

No, he did not believe that. So he allowed his eyes to close once more, as his child resumed her soothing song.

~*~

The third time he opened his eyes, Loki felt strong enough to move. Most of his injuries had healed and, although his limbs still felt sore from his ordeal, he could get up and walk. His lips itched in a bothersome way as the punctures healed. His usually immaculate clothes were but rags, his hair was dirty and in complete disarray. His disgust at himself was curbed by the notion that he was dressed in the most appropriate way for his current surroundings.

He noticed ravens nesting in the many holes along the ruined walls. Ravens, the messengers between the worlds, the eyes of Odin. Surely the Allfather could see where he was... how long until he or his warriors came to capture him?

"They will not come, my father."

Loki spun on his heels and found Hel sitting on her 'throne', looking at him with humorous eyes. Loki felt anything but humorous.

"Still inside my head?"

"It is becoming harder to see anything, now that your strength returns. But your frown speaks for you."

Loki snorted, unamused. "How can you be so sure the Allfather will not come?"

It was Hel's turn to cackle.

"Because he _knows_ you will eventually go to Asgard by yourself. The Allfather simply _waits_."

Loki paced the floor, disliking how Odin always seemed to be one step ahead. His hate against the Allfather was constantly mingled with a strange admiration of his wisdom, of how he seemed to possess a timeless knowledge that Loki himself had not completely envisioned yet. And it annoyed him that Odin's only child, his stupid _brother_ , had none of the mental skill necessary to learn and use such knowledge. He looked at Hel, who watched him indifferently.

"Why are you not dressed?" Loki asked, trying to change the subject.

"Clothes, my father, are for those who have status or shame," she answered, matter-of-factly. "The dead have neither."

Loki walked in silence towards a ruined wall and stared at the endless desolation that laid ahead, focusing on nothing.

~*~

He spent a few more days—years? eons?—at Niflhel, until he had recovered enough to carry on his _vendetta_ , as Hel had put it. When he felt strong enough to use magic, and when his body stopped aching at every movement, he decided it was time to leave. Hel showed him a pathway that existed between her realm and Midgard, but warned him that it was a one-way portal. Once he left, he'd no longer be able to return to Hel... unless he decided to court death once more.

"Is the Bifröst connected to Hel?" he asked her.

"Of course it is," Hel snickered, "but I suspect the Gatekeeper will not be keen on granting you a free passage to any realm."

"Indeed," Loki answered, with a grin of his own.

"Please, greet our kinsman when you meet him."

Kinsman. She meant Thor. 

"He is not my kin nor yours, as you well know."

"Even Midgardians know..." she murmured, "it's not blood alone that creates kinship". 

Then her body disappeared in a cloud of wings and beaks, transforming into a dozen of crows that readily flew away, leaving Loki alone with his thoughts.

Thor. Loki could barely wait to meet him again. Thor, the coward, who had taken him to judgement and then walked away while some warrior lord stitched Loki's lips together. Thor, the weak, who had let his heart soften because of a Midgardian wench and a throng of Midgardian fools having delusions of heroism.

Thor, his _brother_ , the beating heart of his pain, that he longed to stab.

~*~

When Loki's first attack came, Thor didn't know whether to feel hopeful or hopeless. 

His father told Thor that Loki had escaped the prison, and that once more he had thrown himself from the Bifröst. He tried asking Heimdall and Odin about Loki's possible whereabouts. Both answered with silence. Thor could not tell whether this was a good or a bad sign, but inside his heart he prayed for a miracle. _Keep my brother safe. Bring him back to me_.

The Norns had heard his prayers, and now his brother smirked while leaving a trail of debris and death in one of Midgard's biggest cities. That was the part which made Thor hopeless. 

He knew Loki's punishment had been extremely harsh, and his disagreement had been so strong he had to leave the court as to not explode. His most impulsive instincts urged him to rescue Loki and flee somewhere safe. But Thor had been seasoned by past mistakes and did his best to control these impulses, for he understood that even a king could not overthrow the will of an entire kingdom. Lords and important warriors, already fazed by the revelation that Loki was an adopted Jotünn, now clamoured for an amendment. As a king, Odin had to respect their wishes. But Thor thought he didn't have to stay there and watch, powerlessly, as his brother was so cruelly punished.

Still, he had thought that Loki and him had somehow found a common ground in their last meeting, and that after the judgement they would have the opportunity to talk and make amends properly. Thor yearned for his brother's company, for his forgiveness, for _him_. However, before he could come up with a way to save Loki, the man had escaped by his own means and disappeared. 

Typical of him. One does not plan for the trickster.

Now they were back to ground zero. Loki madly destroying everything in his path, the Avengers trying to kill him, and Thor juggling his loyalty to his new friends and his fierce love for his kin. No longer having an alien army to back him up, Loki had learnt to manipulate Midgardian leaders and warriors, in order to turn them into oblivious world wreckers.

This complicated everything. The Avengers could not go around killing their own people, but at the same time they had to stop them from destroying Midgard. Thor was surprised to see the potency of the mortals' weapons, and the extent of damage they could cause.

He was jolted from his thoughts by a voice screaming inside his ear. He would never get used to that apparatus Stark had created for them to communicate.

"Sorry to interrupt your little _brooding_ session, but we need you to get your Asgardian rear in gear and FIGHT, if it's not too much to ask!"

"My apologies, Stark" he said before jumping back into action with the Mjöllnir in one hand.

Natasha had told them the best to way to make people go back to normal was hitting their heads hard. Thor found it particularly difficult to knock mortals off without crushing their skulls in the process. And of course, they had to leave the Hulk out of it. So he and the green giant took care of destroying the weapons and bombs that the bedevilled mortals threw at them, while the others tested the 'cognitive recalibration' treatment on the masses.

From time to time Thor tried to find his brother amongst the ruined buildings and the fire. To no avail. Loki couldn't be found unless he wanted to.

"Okay guys" said Stark's voice in his ear, again. "We can't keep distributing free concussions as if they were Halloween candies. We have to find a way to break the spell. Someone has to get Diva Vader in a corner and punch the answer out of him."

Thor had to admit that half of what Stark said sounded like another language to his ears, but he could very much understand what 'punch the answer out of someone' meant and he was pretty sure he had heard the term 'diva' being directed to his brother once. 

"I think we should send the Hulk", Natasha's voice answered. 

"Yeah, maybe cramming Loki into the floor again will do the trick", Barton said in a mordant tone.

"Into _my_ Bardiglio Imperiale marble floor, I should say, which cost me a small fortune to fix. Loki's _folie de grandeur_ is making me accumulate a rather hefty bill of repair. I really think Asgard should kindly yield some of its gold to the Maria Stark Foundation, since Loki's megalomania is obviously a consequence of lame parent—"

"I will do it."

That brought the chatter in his ear to a sudden halt.

"I will find Loki and make him stop." Thor's words left his mouth before he could think his decision thoroughly. Before he could _think_ , actually. He just wanted the green giant away from his brother. 

"Oh really!?" Stark snickered.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" There was honest concern Steve's voice.

No he wasn't.

"Absolutely."

~*~

"Do you know how Odin lost his eye?"

Hel came up with the strange topic during the last days of his sojourn in Niflhel. Loki found it rather unexpected, because in his mind everyone knew how Odin had lost his eye. 

"During the war against Laufey, was it not?"

 _When he stole me away_. But that went unsaid.

"This is what we were led to believe... but ancient creatures rest here too, those who lived when the Yggdrasil was but a sapling, and their dreams tell a different tale. They speak of _sacrifice_."

"Oh, spare me the riddles," Loki muttered. "I have known Odin is a liar but why—"

"The Allfather sees far ahead, and he sees to the finish. We do not feel him pull the strings until we are suddenly doing his bidding. Does that not sound familiar to you?"

"The mark of a trickster..."

"Perhaps, my father, your nature comes not from your Jötunn blood... but from your Æsir upbringing?"

The idea was preposterous. Why would Odin keep spinning yarns to hide the truth, when his lies about Loki's origins had already come to light? 

But Loki's mind was already running ahead of his incredulity. For he too wove intricate webs just for the sheer pleasure of unravelling them at the end, and watch those who hang to the fragile threads fall.

~*~

Thor spot Loki on the top of one of the Midgardian towers, observing the pandemonium wrought by his own hands with a look of complete ennui. The thunderer often wondered if his brother really meant to destroy and conquer Midgard, or if all the noise was a diversion. 

Perhaps Loki himself did not know. Perhaps he did not want to know.

Thor quietly dropped the Mjöllnir, and marched towards the dark-haired man. It was clear that this time Loki wanted to see him, for he made no move even though he was aware of Thor's presence.

"Leaving your weapon behind while confronting your enemy... how typical of you. Your stupidity never ceases to amaze me, Thor."

"How typical of _you_ to twist every word and deed so they will fit your paranoia. You are not my enemy, brother."

Loki turned to face him with a wide smirk upon his face.

"Oh, is that an attempt to argument with me? You are well out of your depth, Thor. Perhaps you should return to using your firsts instead of using your tongue, because your skills with it are utterly non-existent."

Thor resisted the urge to bury his face in his hand. By the Nine Realms, nothing seemed to get into Loki's thick skull. His brother considered himself rational and yet no amount of reasoning made him see what was right in front of him. Thor felt tempted to try the cognitive recalibration on Loki, but knew his brother would disappear before he could even touch him. 

"Insult me if it makes you feel better, but cease this madness. It is obvious you do not wish to rule Midgard anymore, so let us take this battle elsewh—"

Loki laughed, with a wild look in his eyes.

"This emasculation of yours is most unbecoming of Odin's heir. I suppose soon you shall be throwing flowers and mead at your enemies, instead of your hammer."

Thor felt he had exhausted his poor dialectic already, so he just moved as fast as he could, ready to grab his brother by the arms and shake this insanity out of him. Perhaps his hands could indeed do what incessant squabbling could not. But Loki disappeared, and in a matter of seconds he was behind the thunderer, with a knife pressed to his throat.

"What makes you believe I need _any_ reason to do what I want to do!? Big fool, I can destroy this world and its contemptible creatures out of a _whim_. Listen to me," Loki pressed his lips to Thor's ear in mockery of a caress, "I will destroy this world. I will rip this branch off the Yggdrasil and throw it into the fire. And I will make you watch it _burn_. Mark my words, Thor."

With a roar, Thor reached back and used his superior physical strength to grab his brother and throw him against the nearest wall. The dagger cut a bit into his neck, but not enough to cause any real harm. 

So much for talking to Loki and making him stop. With a gesture of his hand Thor summoned the Mjöllnir, and within an eye blink he felt the metal handle hit his palm with calculated precision. The welcome shock of an electric current ran up his arm and he readied himself for the next attack.

"Over my dead body, brother."

" _Better_ over your dead body, _brother_."

The skies darkened as Thor felt a suffocating rage fill his chest. Loki looked around with half-crazed amazement, as if the physical proof of the other's fury was exactly what he had been aiming for. The air crackled around them and the heavy rain clouds made the air itself dense as lead. It was hard to breath, hard to move.

And it was impossible to speak, as both of them charged at each other with such a force the shock of their energy shattered the windows of every building around them. The deafening explosion immediately called the attention of the other Avengers, and Thor could hear them trying to communicate with him. With an irritated gesture he pulled the plug off his ear and crushed it in his fist, as he dodged some of Loki's knives.

They fought hard. Thor could feel his mind fill with an all too familiar fog, and all he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears. Somewhere in his mind he knew, he _knew_ that he didn't want to fight Loki, but whenever their bodies collided he could taste Loki's blood in his mouth, so like his own even if it was different. And it drove him mad.

Through the haze of his near-berserk state he could see a blur of red and yellow, that he quickly pushed away with a swing of the Mjöllnir, followed by a chaos of voices and words he didn't care, couldn't care about. All he could see, all he could smell, was Loki, _his_ Loki fighting against him with all he had. The muffled sound of smashing concrete and steel warned him of Hulk's approach, but he swore to him, swore that if he _dared_ to so much as touch—

A green shadow dominated his vision, and suddenly Thor was lying among the debris, his mind clear once more. Not far away from him he saw Loki, covered in dust and blood, looking hurt enough so that the Hulk did not bother hitting him again. Two Asgardians quickly defeated by one Midgardian monster. How pathetic. Thor would have laughed at the situation if his facial muscles weren't frozen in a frown.

He got up and walked towards his brother, who was already getting up. Thor didn't bother summoning the Mjöllnir because his desire to fight had disappeared as quickly as it had risen. He could feel the other Avengers surrounding them, but no one moved. No one dared, for the air still crackled and the dark clouds still hung low.

When the two Asgardians were standing an arm's length apart, Thor stopped and simply stared into his brother's green eyes. He did not speak nor move, just held Loki there, wanting to see beyond the madness if the man he had loved more than anyone was still somewhere in there. If he could spot him and bring him back. Loki's face lost the smug expression, and he seemed about to leave before Thor's soft voice locked him in place.

"And after you kill me, brother? Then what?"

Loki's eyes flickered for a moment. His lips parted, but it took him a heartbeat to answer, and when he did it was an almost inaudible whisper.

"It will be the end."

And he vanished.

~*~

"They say Odin sacrificed his eye for knowledge."

Hel was half-sitting, half-lying on her uncomfortable throne. She kept her eyes fixed on the ruined dome above her head, lazily tracing invisible patterns with the tip of her finger. With a sleight of his hand Loki invoked magic, making Hel's drawings visible in the air.

"Thank you, my father. So much more fun this way."

"I suppose you do not have much fun here."

"Watching the dead is fun," she answered with an indolent voice.

Loki sauntered towards one of the many ruined walls. The constant presence of the ravens no longer bothered him; if Odin had wanted to capture Loki, he would have done so already. He honestly could not imagine what went through the king's mind, but he decided that trying to figure it out was an exercise in futility. 

The more Loki thought about it, the more Hel's remark on Odin's deceitfulness seemed true. Laufey was no idiot, but his cunning and intelligence couldn't match Odin's even if he grew a second head. Loki did not see much of Laufey in himself, except for his true appearance, which still differed from the typical Jötnar. And what to say of Thor? Thor was a lout, whose knowledge was limited to battle strategy, and that was usually overruled by his blood lust. He certainly didn't seem to be Odin's child, except perhaps for his golden warrior veneer.

This line of thought made Loki vaguely uneasy so he let it drop. He certainly did not want to feel any sort of affinity to Odin. He looked once more to the misty sky of his temporary haven. It was as if the celestial orb had been covered in grey mist and then frozen, with the Sun perpetually trying to break the horizon's barrier without success.

A world deprived of real life, but strangely peaceful.

He turned once more to Hel, who was still amusing herself with countless drawings. For a moment, the heavy foot of hate that crushed his heart seemed to lift. Loki always felt something akin to maternal love towards Fenrir, Jörmungandr and Hel, even though he was actually their father. Even though they came from a womb he hated—a Jötunn's.

After he gave birth to Sleipnir, in the form of a mare, he grew curious about how reproduction happened between different species. He had expected his shapeshifting forms to be sterile, but apparently they were not. He needed a body to research, one he would not mind mangling if needed. Nothing more natural than to pick the half-dead body of a frost giant—or a giantess, with the Jötnar you could never tell—and _try_. 

Loki had success three times before Angrboda passed away. Each time the creature had a different shape - a wolf, a serpent, a woman. All powerful monstrosities, but for a reason that eluded Loki, he loved them at first sight. They were _his_ , and he took care of them until Odin decided they were too dangerous.

Looking at Hel and her curious blend of young amusement and old wisdom, he thought he knew why. Perhaps a part of him had always known that he too was a monster. And amongst his children, away from the golden hypocrisy of Asgard... he was home.

_Hate shall keep you alive._

He moved towards Hel, seeking to hear the rest of Odin's story. 

~*~

"What the HELL was that!?"

Thor could tell that Stark was trying to sound outraged, but there was a hint of astonishment in his voice that killed the performance a bit. It was hard for the Midgardian to understand that he was not simply a goodie-goodie hero like himself, but a _warrior God_. From another realm, with other rules. Of course he tried to do his best and protect those who were weak—this _was_ part of his honour code—but often he was compelled to battle by his own nature. That savage poison in his blood that made him fight to kill. 

Trying to reason with him in such state was frivolous. His own brother, who did not fear him, knew that. 

"My apologies, Stark. It was the heat of battle—"

"Yes I know, but if someone a bit less protected than I had been in your way, you could've killed them! You can't be irrational every time you fight!"

Stark stalked away, and Thor let his forehead fall towards the window pane. He didn't feel like defending his alien differences, nor he felt like apologising _again_. He was a warrior—warriors were prone to violent behaviour, especially during battle. It was obvious to him, but it seemed Midgardians expected him to fight without hurting anyone. Thor huffed. He could hear Pepper's voice trying to defend him, even though they all knew Tony was partially right. They didn't need two Hulks in one team as they had enough problems keeping one under control. Natasha and Barton sat on the couch, talking quietly, while Steve's eyes darted between Thor and Stark, as if deciding which one was right.

_It will be the end._

It was not so much the Avenger's reprimand that made Thor morose, but the memory of Loki's last words. It began to sink into his mind that Loki's objective all along had not been to demonstrate his seidrmadr prowess, or to destroy Midgard because he could, despite what the trickster claimed. One could not take his words at face value anyway.

Thor had no doubt that Loki could start a brutal crusade against any of the Nine Realms just out of boredom. That would be typically Loki, and even more if he could manipulate gullible creatures into wreaking havoc in his place. But their last meeting had made it clear for him that simply sowing disorder was no longer enough for this brother.

Loki wanted _him_. He wanted to hurt _him_ , to destroy all things Thor loved, and punish him for loving them. Thor was the the physical evidence of Odin's lie, the eternal reflection of what Loki could never be. Of what he never was. And that was the unforgivable crime, the crime of existing, because while Thor lived Loki would be constantly battering his head against a wretched mirror. Still, Thor felt utterly innocent; for no one had ever loved Loki more than he did, and no one had ever forgiven him more. And if Loki had spent many years living a lie, so had Thor, but for him it was not such a bad lie if it had brought them together. Loki's scorn for his love baffled Thor as much as the Avengers' surprise at his violence did.

"Thor?"

Steve awoke him from his thoughts, cautiously.

"Yes, my friend?"

"What did Loki tell you? I mean, before he disappeared."

Thor turned around to face the Captain, perhaps the only full-fledged hero in that team. Steve's eyes had no kindness in them, but there was a sincere wish to understand before judging.

"My brother... uh, Loki told me the next fight will be our final one. It will be the end."

Both felt the air become dense and stifling, as an awkward silence hang between them. It was the weight of a truth both knew, but would not dare to say out loud.

~*~

"One day, dressed in a dark cloak and carrying the ash staff of a wanderer, Odin made his way to Mímir's Well, near Jötunheim. What exactly he was looking for we may never know... but we do know what he found there. The Well of Knowledge, from which Mímir himself drank every morning in order to see the threads of fate as the Norns spun them. But Mímir was not willing to surrender such wisdom, not even to a king in disguise, from fear that it would be misused. Even kings are corruptible if given too much..."

"So how did the Allfather convince him?"

" _‘Knowledge is power, but is also danger. All true wisdom is only gained through pain... he who does not give his flesh and soul for it shall never know its true value'_. These were Mímir's words to the Allfather, when he approached the Well."

"And Odin gave only his eye for this? Seems like a bargain to me, in exchange for such a precious gift."

"Oh no, my father. It was not so easy, for Odin accepted Mímir's terms without quite knowing what sacrifice would be asked of him. Mímir demanded that he hang himself upside down over the Well, to see within its depth. The Allfather tied his body to nearest root of Yggdrasil and did as it was requested."

"And what part the eye plays in the story?"

"Always in such a hurry to know! I suppose you would give Mímir both your eyes for knowledge?"

"I do not think so. I would trick it out of him somehow."

"Not any more, as his head now lives with the Allfather. And only to him Mímir whispers his secrets."

"Very well, then I shall have to _steal_ Mímir's head. But you still have not spoken of Odin's sacrifice."

"Apologies, my father. As I was saying, Odin was hanging upside down over the Well, when Mímir drew a knife and gouged out one of the king's eyeballs, before throwing it into the waters."

"Must have been painful."

"Oh, I believe it was. The vision alone makes me grimace, and I have seen many things."

"So Mímir left Odin to bleed to death, tied to the Yggdrasil? That was the price?"

"Yes. For nine days and nine nights, Odin hang there, bleeding, hungry, thirsty, helpless. He would gain Mímir's wisdom, but only if he could survive his own sacrifice. No one knows what visions and prophecies revealed themselves in the bloodied waters of the Well. But he survived... from his pain he learnt not only the ways of fate, but also the magic symbols used in the seidr... which he shared with you, if memory serves me well."

"He did, though most warriors find it shameful for a man to learn the seidr. I am afraid memory cannot serve you at all in this case, for you were not born yet."

"No, but my memories are not all my own, as you know."

"Indeed. Which dead told you this most enthralling tale, my daughter? I do not think this is common knowledge."

"Not amongst the Æsir perhaps, because the Allfather has twisted the story until it became the legend connected to your... adoption."

"Capture."

"Have it your way. But some Midgardians knew about it, and the story is still alive in their books of legends."

"So you saw all this in a Midgardian's dream? Difficult to believe."

"The tale came from many different dreamers, from the olden times. I just wove the song together."

"But one question remains— _why_? Why would Odin weave me into his story of enlightenment and make all realms believe he sacrificed his eye saving me?"

"I cannot speak for the Allfather... you may have to ask him about this yourself, in your next visit to Asgard."

"I have no intention to _visit_ Asgard, not until I have Thor's head on a silver-plate."

"This opportunity may arrive sooner than expected, my father."

~*~

The following attack did not come by surprise, for all Avengers had been expecting it with bated breath. But this time, instead of wasting his magic using pitiful humans, Loki brought frost giants to battle. 

Ever since Laufey's death, the Jötnar had come to accept Loki as his heir, without knowing that he had been responsible for their king's murder. They were not aware of Loki's hatred towards his own species, believing all their woes to be Odin's doing, and waited for him to return and reclaim the throne with the unmatched patience of icy creatures.

They were reluctant when Loki invited them to be his army in Midgard, for the Allfather would certainly see this and come from Asgard to punish them. They could not take another defeat so soon—they were too vulnerable without a steadfast leader and without their Casket. But Loki covered his words in honey, telling them that Thor was no longer in Asgard, and that the Allfather would soon fall into the Odinsleep, since his last rest had been interrupted by Loki's riot. If only, if _only_ they could hold those weak Midgardians in their power and demand the Casket of Ancient Winters in exchange for their lives... the Allfather would surely comply, for he had vowed to protect the poor mortals. Besides, there was another item, called the Tesseract, also in the Asgardian treasury, that would help Jötunheim to regain its former glory...

Loki knew the this whole idea was ludicrous and many times during his speech he felt on the brink of chortling and ruining everything. But he was a trickster, the best one, and his lies usually got him exactly where he wanted. This time was no different; the Jötnar yearned for a chance to retaliate against Asgardians and Midgardians alike, more than they wanted to prepare a proper battle strategy. 

Well, Loki had no intention to win this war anyway. He could not care less for Jötunheim and its former glory, he just needed an army to keep the Avengers distracted. He had but one person under his sight, and that was Thor. His defeat would be the final knot in the complex tapestry he had been designing for so long.

All went well. With his magic Loki concealed the frost giants from Heimdall's vision and used one of the many passageways he had discovered between Midgard and the other realms. Once they got there, it did not take long for the Avengers to come to him, bringing the God of Thunder with them.

Fight, chaos, ice, fire. Creatures doing his bidding without even realising it—how much Loki loved this feeling! He could feel anticipation pumping in his veins, knowing that he would at last pacify this anger inside him. For Thor embodied everything he wanted to destroy.

Thor found him, and this time did not drop the Mjöllnir. Loki was a bit surprised to find his words had actually penetrated the thunderer's thick skull for once. No talk, no questions... no pleas for Loki to cease-the-madness-and-come-back-home. There was a strange resignation in Thor's eyes, something the trickster had never seen there before, alien and discomfiting. At long last Thor was taking him serious, and ideally it should fill him with satisfaction. Instead, it left a rather bitter taste in his mouth; for when he could not predict Thor's reactions, he did not feel so in control any more.

And Loki would rather be the one pulling the strings. 

No talk, no words, no pleas. Both gods charged at each other in the beginning of their personal Ragnarök. Loki was pleased to notice his brother was not holding back, attacking with conviction. Only, he noticed, the usual fury was not there. He swung and tossed the Mjöllnir with strength and precision, and whenever his punches and kicks hit Loki they _hurt_. Yet, Thor's spirit was absent from this fight.

It bothered Loki, because he couldn't bear it when Thor showed he could hide things from him. Thor was a brutish oaf, nothing more than that. Or was he? The more they fought, the more Loki became sure that Thor and his Midgardians had _something_ planned, something he had not foreseen, and this tormented Loki. His own attacks became more lethal, less playful as he stopped using illusions to make a fool of Thor and decided to end this once and for all.

With a mere thought he revealed his true Jötunn form, and in this form invoked an icy storm. Thor did not freeze, but the ice shards cut into his skin in many places, and Loki revelled in sight of his handiwork. Thor attacked him with the Mjöllnir but Loki simply disappeared before his eyes. It crossed the Jötunn's mind that despite his powers, he would never be able to deliver any serious attack if he kept avoiding the blows. It was not like Thor would allow him too near, and Loki knew he had better chances of succeeding if he got closer to the other.

Loki stood at the edge of a Midgardian building, waiting for Thor's next assault. When it came, he did not prepare to dodge; instead, he carefully concentrated his power in his left hand, and waited until Thor was close, close, _closer_ , enough for a hug, a kiss, a deadly attack. Before the Mjöllnir could hit him, he sent a big blast of energy towards the middle of Thor's chest, and watched in triumph as it transformed into an ice spear and travelled too fast for the Asgardian to avoid it.

But his triumph crumbled as he saw Thor brace up and open his arms wide, welcoming the cold blade into his body.

_What—_

Thor just stood there for a while, breathing heavily and looking at his own chest. When he rose his head to look at Loki, there was a small bloodied smile decorating his face. With the heavy spear deep into his chest, Thor could only manage to stagger towards his brother, crimson drops following his steps.

"Now... this is the end, brother. Right?"

Loki was paralysed by the realisation that he had, indeed, done it this time. 

_No, this is not right._

But before he could attempt to move, before he could _breathe_ , he saw Thor's heavy body pass him by and reach the edge of the building, falling forwards with his arms still wide open, like the wings of that bird Midgardians called Phoenix.

He disappeared in a flash of golden light, before he hit the ground.

Loki disappeared too, but where Thor had gone he could not follow.

~*~

The Avengers had become confused like mouses in a maze at Thor's disappearance. They did not quite accept the idea that he was _dead_ , since he was a god and all, but still could not explain what had happened. They saw him fight his brother, fight him seriously for the first time in ages, and suddenly... he fell from a building and was gone.

"Gone. Poof. Abracadabra. And his head case of a brother? Nowhere to be seen. I smell a rat here, a big one alright." 

"Maybe they've finally eloped to another realm and will let us be?"

"Ohhh, the astounding Barton wit. Pray continue, I long to be amused to death."

Tony kept ranting and Barton kept snickering and shaking his head.

Steve leant quietly against the door frame, watching his colleagues bicker and discuss their theories again, without reaching a consensus. He knew he should give a piece of his mind, share what he knew, but his tongue felt too heavy and dull. He could not shake the melancholy that had descended upon him since his last talk with Thor.

He had seen it in the thunderer's limpid eyes. He was probably the only one who _knew_ what had happened, who understood the sacrifice, but he could not say it aloud. He had, with his silence, concurred with Thor's decision, because he was a man of sacrifices too. 

As painful as if had been, it worked. For weeks now, Loki had not showed himself, not to collect the bodies of his fallen ice monsters, nor to reclaim Earth... and much less to boast about his victory.

Perhaps, Steve mused, Loki was just as stunned as they were.

~*~

The unyielding hatred that had settled in his chest the moment he learnt the truth about himself had transformed into a dull, steady throb. The painful spasms of a newborn loss. An unbearable pressure within his ribs, as if his heart had at long last collapsed into a black hole, stealing everything from him, including his breath. His tears. Such a terrible, terrible sadness, a loneliness that threatened to undo him, and he could not even cry.

Loki knew that, without Thor, Midgard depended only on a pitiful posse of mediocre mortals, that he was sure he could destroy in no time. But his wish for fight and conquest had vanished from his spirit when Thor's dying body disappeared before his eyes.

And behind his eyelids Thor's last moment repeated itself over and over and over again. Caught in a maddening loop, a memory that begged to be deciphered.

_Now... this is the end, brother. Right?_

But Loki could not couldn't decipher it. The memory, the words. Thor's bloodied smile.

Loki knew Thor could not be dead. As Hel had said, they could not really die; as gods, they could only fall into a death-like slumber that could last for days—or eons. The question was: where had Thor gone? Niflhel? Valhalla? If he was alive, he could be anywhere in the tangled vastness of the Yggdrasil. If he was weak, and Loki's attack had certainly debilitated him, then he was probably already asleep and it would be difficult to track him.

It dawned on Loki that this must have been how Thor felt when he fell from the Bifröst. Empty. Confused. Forlorn.

Guilty.

Oh, the merciless irony of it. Loki would laugh at himself if he could. Thor had candidly twined his very existence into the fabric of Loki's ragged heart, and now the frantic emotions roused by such tie were finally breaking through the dam Loki had spent his whole life erecting around them. And so affected Loki was by the tides raging within him that, before he knew it, he was already standing before Heimdall, demanding to speak to Odin. He should be surprised when the Gatekeeper allowed him to pass without any objections, but he was not.

The Allfather had seen it—and he simply waited.

~*~

He found Odin in his hall, standing beside his throne completely alone. Loki stalked defiantly towards him, determined to not show any signs of weakness, although he knew how hard it was to fool the old man. He noticed there was no anger nor great grief in the Allfather's expression; he seemed resigned. When they were close enough to see into each other's eyes, Odin whispered in an unexpectedly wistful voice. 

"I knew that something like this would happen, eventually."

Loki snorted, contemptuously.

"Then why did you not do something to stop it?"

"Because it is not my right, nor my duty, to interfere with every negative thing that may happen." Odin answered, matter-of-factly. "Besides, there are certain things Thor needs to learn that I cannot teach."

"Oh, then I am now the golden boy's professor too. I have certainly taught him a lot about betrayal and pain. A knowledge much useful for a future king."

"Much useful, indeed."

Loki stared at Odin incredulously, sure that the king could only be jesting. What was in the Allfather's mind? His golden boy had been almost killed by the man standing in front of him, the man he made the mistake of welcoming into his family, and he was discussing the matter as if it was all but a small part of his master plan.

Or maybe it was.

"Did you steal me from Jötunheim so I could chisel Thor into wisdom? Was that your brilliant plan all along?"

"Loki—"

"You could have done this yourself!"

"No, I could not."

Loki was trying to hide his distress behind a mask of hate, but it was cracking already. All masks were useless before the Allfather, for he saw through them all.

"Why?"

"Because I am not you. And what Thor feels for me is not what he feels for you."

"And _what_ does he feel? For me?"

"You may have to ask him yourself, when you find him—"

"What makes you think I will waste my time search—"

"—though I believe you already know it, for it has been eating you from the inside out for a long time."

At first Loki could only answer with a rather stunned silence, but he gulped his own surprise down and the words began to emerge.

"I am here... standing before you, no hidden weapons, no nothing. And yet... yet you do not punish me for the demise of your _dear son_. I thought I was a big manipulator, but you still have much to teach me, do you not?"

He put as much scorn in his voice as he could, but Odin just started into Loki's eyes, his gaze intense and still. His only eye saw deep, too deep, and there was in it a certain weariness, a fatigue of centuries, of knowing too much and realising that all knowledge in the world is useless at times.

Whatever it was that Odin knew, it remained incomprehensible for both Thor and Loki, and he could not do anything about it but to wait until their time came. They had to pay knowledge its due, and that is done through living, through dying and being reborn. They would have to learn through their own sacrifices. 

Loki turned away from him, but he could still feel the Allfather's eye strip him bare.

"I do not need to punish you, Loki. You are the one who is bereft of the only thing that has ever mattered to you. And by your own deed."

When Loki turned around to face Odin again, he was already preparing to leave the great hall.

"You have already punished yourself enough, have you not?"

Odin's steps echoed in the emptiness, leaving Loki alone. No guards or warriors came after him, to interrupt his thoughts, to break these daunting walls of silence that seemed to close on him from all sides. If he were to scream, no one would listen. If he were to cry, to suffer, if he were to hurt another or laugh with joy, who would see? Who would care? No one, except a man who now slept so close to death, with a spear where his heart should be.

Hel's words reverberated into Loki's skull with painful insistence.

_The wicked dream of their deserving punishment, and their torture never lets them rest._

He destroyed Thor, and with him his unbearable love. A love that Loki had wanted, _needed_ desperately, and that out of fear he had forsaken. Because Thor had always given his love openly, freely, but Loki would rather be prisoner of his own renounce than to let Thor suspect that his love was _the only thing that mattered_.

Loki had wanted to free himself from Thor, but Thor took the decision from his hands and freed himself first. And now Loki was stumbling blindly in his wake, bruising himself against the corners of this new-found absence, longing for Thor's love because it was gone.

~*~

"He pierced your heart with an ice spear. How _appropriate_."

Thor's did not open his eyes, because every small gesture caused him a lot of pain. Not that his vision was needed—he could still recognise that unique voice after so many years. A small smile cracked his lips.

"He may have succeeded in breaking this heart this time, Lady Hel."

"Oh, do not act like a scorned damsel," Hel hissed, but her voice was humorous, "it suits you ill!"

Thor wanted to laugh, but his chest hurt too much. Everything hurt too much.

"I will remove this spear, kinsman, and dress your wound. You are not dead— _yet_. You may stay here until you recover."

"May take a long time, kinswoman."

"Never you mind. There is no patience like that of the dead."

He heard her snicker, but she did not move from his side. She waited for a question, the question that gnawed at Thor's tired mind and wounded heart. Thor could feel her waiting and forced the words out of his suddenly constricted throat.

"What of Loki?"

Hel looked wistfully at the diffuse light on the horizon, its frozen sun never rising, never setting.

"Do not worry. This time, he is the one who seeks you."

And at this, Thor relaxed and fell into a long sleep.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Disclaimer:** None of the characters mentioned in this fanfic belong to me, and nothing said here about them is true. No copyright infringement is intended.


End file.
